


Chocolate Milk

by castiels_angel



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Farting, Toilet, gassy - Freeform, poop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23781850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castiels_angel/pseuds/castiels_angel
Summary: Half a gallon of chocolate milk produces some unpleasant effects.
Kudos: 11





	Chocolate Milk

My boyfriend decided after his first glass of chocolate milk that he wanted to drink all of it. “This shit is so delicious,” he commented, reaching into the fridge for the container.  
I didn’t drink milk because it disagreed with my insides, but I willingly picked it up for him as a treat tonight. We had just ate McDonalds and he had scarfed down a Big Mac, a McChicken, and a large fry in minutes. He hesitated for a moment, then took the lid off and raised the carton to his lips.  
He took several long, seemingly needy gulps and then a deep breath. “I haven’t had milk in so long. My family was all lactose intolerant.”  
“Are you?” I couldn’t help but ask.  
He laughed in response, “nope.” Again he went back to chugging the milk.

I began to doubt his answer a couple of hours later when we were in bed and he was asleep. He had finished most of half the gallon of milk and was sleeping on his back, his belly a beautiful and full mound. I was reading on my kindle when he grunted in his sleep, hand going to his stomach. I knew all the food and milk was surely in the process of digesting, and it probably wasn’t pleasant.

He exhaled loudly from his nose and let out a raw fart. Oh yeah, he was definitely in agony. I pressed my hand to his stomach.  
He was still asleep as I murmured, “let the gas go, babe,” and began to rub his bloated belly.  
After a couple of minutes, I hear a gurgling noise and he lets out another nasty burst of flatulence. “I’m going to pee because something tells me the bathroom is going to be out of order soon.”  
Within a few minutes of me going into the bathroom, he had woken up and was pounding on the door. “I have to take a piss,” he insisted. I had just finished washing my hands so I opened the door.  
Off came his boxers as he faced the toilet and started to drain himself. His bladder was so full as he peed for a straight minute and sighed as if the weight of the world was off his shoulders now.?He turned to look at me, a noxious fart escaping as he forced the last spurt of piss out. “Sorry... I was about to pee myself.”  
I laughed and headed back to the bedroom. When he came out, I offered him a cigarette, knowing it would be some what of a laxative to him. He lit it as he paced the room. “That milk is getting to me,” he remarked halfway through the cigarette, grimacing. I wasn’t sure if he let out a silent but deadly, though I supposed he did.  
“What do you mean?” I played innocent.  
“This gas is creeping up on me. My belly is so heavy and full.” This time he burped, slamming a hand to his mouth. “I’m about to pop.”  
“Let me rub your belly. You’ve got indigestion. You ate a lot,” I reminded him.

He obliged and moved closer to me. Within a moment, he jutted his belly out, commenting, “I'm about to let one rip.”  
Sure enough, I heard the familiar sound. “I’m about to explode. Man, out of nowhere I’ve got to shiiiit,” he complained.   
I knew that was coming, because smoking also made him take regular bowel movements. But I could tell this one wouldn’t be normal.   
His lower gut felt so rock hard to the touch now. “I can’t ignore this.”  
I knew he would be paying for the chocolate milk and requested, “leave the bathroom door open and talk to me.” He had done that once or twice before, once when he was constipated, and the other, drunk.   
He look taken aback but left the door ajar as he rushed into the bathroom. “I’m about to crap my pants,” he muttered, dropping his drawers. As soon as he was positioned above the toilet, before his ass even touched the seat, I heard a little splash.  
Then he farted up a storm, his courtesy flush drowning out just a few of the gas bubbles. “I’m sorry,” he called, but I was straining to hear all of it.   
Next he let out a final high pitched fart and I heard some mild splashes and grunts. “I’ve got the Hershey squirts,” was the announcement. Surprisingly after only three or four minutes, he emerged from the bathroom.   
We watched half an episode before he let out more flatulence. “Unnnh. That just didn’t do it, I guess. Excuse me, cause I’m about to have the liquid shits again.”


End file.
